


Antidote

by velljob



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, M/M, Medical Procedures, Shrunkyclunks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velljob/pseuds/velljob
Summary: Veteran Bucky Barnes has one arm and enough baggage to fill a freight train. He is enlisted to help The Avengers.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 19
Kudos: 108





	1. Chapter 1

_Fuck_.

Bucky Barnes looked at the hole in the sky that had opened over Manhattan and the massive alien army pouring from it like bees from a hive. All around him people were trying to get away; the sound of tires squealing and cars crashing filled the air. The light streaming from somewhere high on Stark Tower was brilliantly blue.

An elderly woman with a large gash on her arm caught his eye. She was sitting on the curb close to where he was standing, looking around her in distress as people ran past, trying to get away from the source of the alien ships.

Bucky ran to the woman, putting out his hand in a friendly, open-palmed gesture as he reached where she was sitting. Two-hundred pounds of ex-soldier cut a distinct figure, and with long, shaggy hair and scruffy stubble added to the mean expression his face seemed to rest in, he scared people without even trying. "Can I help ma'am?"

The small woman looked up, squinting at him as though she wasn't sure he was really there. "Help?" she asked weakly. Her face was drained of all colour and she was shivering convulsively. Shrugging off his jacket, Bucky put it around her shoulders, encouraging her to put the arm that wasn't bleeding into the sleeve. She was in shock, that much was evident, and the first thing he had to do was keep her warm and responsive.

Removing his jacket revealed the FN Five-Seven holstered on his side, and Bucky saw the woman's eyes widen. "It's okay," he murmured, looking around for something he could use to stem the bleeding on her arm. "I have a licence for it. I'm a vet." He grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, intending to rip it into a bandage, but saw a tear in the hemline of his patient's skirt. "I hope this is okay," he told her, grabbing the tear and pulling horizontally along the hem so a large piece of fabric separated off. The woman didn't respond, staring at him with glassy eyes.

"I've only been out eighteen months 'cause … well that's probably obvious," he told her, holding her attention as best he could. He tied the strip tight around her arm, using his teeth to pull the knot closed. "You're gonna be just fine, ma'am," he said softly, as the familiar sound of gunfire ricocheted off the buildings around them. "Let's get you somewhere safe."

Looking up, Bucky found the street around them completely deserted. At a nearby intersection he could see people hurrying past but they were far away and getting further every second. He looked around again, a little more desperately this time. He couldn't leave his patient sitting on the curb but he couldn't stay with her either. They were targets where they were and he needed to move to be able to help more people.

As if he had said the magic words, a door in a building close to them opened. A large man with a bristling moustache poked his head out. "Over here," he called. "Quickly!"

Helping the woman to her feet, Bucky half walked, half carried her to the safety of the shop, where kind strangers took her inside and helped her sit. "Keep her warm and awake," he told them. "Get medical help as soon as you can." Turning to the moustachioed man, who seemed to be the owner of the shop, he asked, "Do you have a portable med kit?"

Five minutes later, the contents of a first aid kit shoved into a kid's backpack slung over his shoulder, Bucky left the safety of the shop. Outside was eerily quiet, like the eye of a storm. The street and nearby intersections were completely devoid of people and in the distance he could hear gunfire and screeching.

Taking up a jog, Bucky went towards the sounds, ducking for cover momentarily on one street as Iron Man went by above him, shooting out gliders and playing tag with one of the enormous monsters that now filled the air above him. The gunfire was close now, almost so he could smell the powder. He darted out from behind the vehicle he had crouched behind and jogged another block towards Stark Tower. He hadn't had to shoot anything yet, staying low as he was, but his palm itched to pull out his gun and try and down a few gliders.

_No. You have a job to do_.

A squad of soldiers ran around a nearby corner, falling into formation quickly and firing in all directions at their foe. They were quickly followed by another squad, then another. Finally, Bucky saw the leader of the platoon, barking orders at her subordinates as she took up the head of the line and brought them forward.

Bucky ignored them, darting around another car to check the pulse of the woman at the steering wheel.

"Someone get that civilian out of here!"

Bucky straightened, pulling his hand away from the dead woman and turning quickly on his heel to snap a salute. "Sergeant James Barnes, Ma'am. I'm a Combat Medic and I'm needed here, so you're gonna have to remove me by force."

The officer stared at him, her eyebrows sitting somewhere in her hairline. Bucky didn't miss the way her eyes flicked to the two-pronged metal hook poking out the bottom of his left sleeve.

A screech above them caused everyone to duck compulsively, and machine gun fire brought the alien down from its perch.

"Sergeant," the Lieutenant barked, indicating the formation. "You're with us. You're not gonna do much good with that pea-shooter you're carrying, so your first priority is to attend to any civilians, do you understand?"

"Yes Ma'am," Bucky nodded, feeling the odd calm that came with years of combat training and field experience settling over him. He joined the formation, jogging up the street with them and peeling off when he saw someone injured or unconscious. The first aid kit from the shop began to run low, forcing him to rely on the small kits the soldiers carried on them. As they went further towards Stark Tower, the dead bodies began to mount.


	2. Chapter 2

Eventually, stopping every so often to check a prone form for signs of life and catching up to the platoon when he found himself too far from the pack, Bucky made it to where emergency services had set up a perimeter and medical outpost. Saluting the Lieutenant, Bucky made his way to the med tent.

"Need an extra pair of hands?" he asked the first nurse he saw. She was holding open a deep wound on the leg of an unconscious middle aged man and trying to sew stitches. She barely looked up as she nodded at him. "Hold the forceps," she said, passing the bloodied implement to him. "I need to stop the internal bleeding before I can stitch him up."

Bucky took the forceps, holding the deep cut in the man's leg open as the nurse made her neat, delicate stitches to the interior flesh, then assisting with the close. "Can you do the clean up?" she asked, glancing first at his prosthetic and then to his eyes.

Bucky nodded. He appreciated her apprehension - he could be a liability in this situation - but he could do most things one-handed from working under fire. As a Combat Medic he ran into hot zones with a gun in one hand and a first aid kit in the other and he was trained to use both almost simultaneously if he had to. It was something he was oddly grateful for now with his disability; it had taken him less time than other amputees to learn to do tasks like buttoning his shirt or making coffee without two hands.

After that patient came another, then another and another. Bucky cleared airways, lifted bodies, re-set limbs, swabbed, cleaned, and consoled. The more they fixed, the more appeared; an endless sea of blood and gore.

Some time after he had entered the tent, he couldn't tell how long, someone pressed Bucky into a chair, putting a cup of coffee into his hand. He drank it slowly, watching the semi-controlled madness unfold around him with a resigned expression. The groaning, crying people, the distinct scent of alcohol-based cleaners, and that smell that he knew all too well was death were tearing his nerves to shreds. Alien army or no, when you got down to ground level war zones were the same; people being hurt and needing assistance. Shut off from the outside world as he was in the med tent, he could have been back in Afghanistan or Iraq.

Finishing his coffee, Bucky stood, stuffed the feelings of panic into a dark corner of his mind, and looked around for the next person to treat.

Sixteen hours after the attack had started, Bucky was told, then ordered, to go home. Stepping into the blinding sunlight outside, he stood where he was for a moment, blinking rapidly as the shapes around him took form. Soldiers were standing at various perimeter points leading into adjoining streets and the area had been successfully blockaded from outside interference. He could see at least a dozen police officers talking to what he could only assume were the family of people who had gone into the medical bay.

Stepping up to one of the army posts, Bucky nodded to the young Private, who let him through with a wide-eyed expression but didn't say a word. He supposed that was to be expected, given that his t-shirt had several blood stains on it from before he had been given scrubs to wear. He was pretty sure he was going to have to throw out everything he was wearing due to contaminants. He rubbed a hand through his hair and then set off in the direction of home. It was going to be a long walk.

"Sir! Sir can we talk to you!"

Bucky turned at the sound of the voice, which had startled him out of his thoughts, and found a bright light shining directly in his eyes. A blonde woman he thought he recognised was shoving a microphone into his face and as his eyes adjusted, he realised the light was attached to a camera. "You've just come out of the military encampment. Were you caught in the fighting?"

"Uh," Bucky managed, his mouth going dry. "Um, yeah. I mean, no. I was there but I wasn't fighting."

"So you were injured in the chaos?" the woman asked, unperturbed, as the camera man panned down to Bucky's shirt and stained jeans.

"No," Bucky managed again, though he really just wanted to turn and hightail it out of there. "I'm a medic. I was helping."

The woman's expression brightened immeasurably and she came to stand next to Bucky, putting her hand on his shoulder in a friendly, placating manner that also managed to get him to stay put. "What's your name?" she asked.

Later, stumbling into his apartment and into a hot shower, Bucky replayed the interview in his mind and cringed. He was sure he had been awkward at best while he fumbled over answers and tried to seem like a normal person, but the reporter had insisted on getting a full interview with him regarding his involvement. He slumped against the shower wall, letting the water sluice down his back as he tried to shake off the whole thing and tell himself that in the twenty-four-hour news cycle about the Chitauri attack no one would see one little interview. Hell, the interview probably wouldn't make it to air.

Bucky crawled into bed, put his phone on charge and on silent, and was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind comments so far! It makes me so happy when people like my writing :)


	3. Chapter 3

_"Hello Mr Barnes, this is Judy Hudson with Team Coco. We're just wondering if you can come on Conan this week?"_

_"Bucky Barnes! This is Jim Te Aho. I specialise in representing folks such as yourself who have found themselves in the spotlight somewhat against their own will. I'd love to have a chat with you about where you're interviewing. Give me a call back!"_

_"Hey Bucky, it's Dad. Just making sure you're holding up okay. Also, your mother wants to know if you're going to come here Sunday for dinner. Alright, love ya, talk soon."_

It was only the end of the third day since the Chitauri invasion and Bucky was considering throwing his phone into the ocean. Between the phone calls and the endless people coming to the door he hadn't had a moment to himself since waking up and finding out the interview had gone viral several days before.

A loud knocking started up at his front door and Bucky groaned. Turning his phone to silent, he shuffled down the hall, hoping it wasn't more neighbours looking for a selfie, or worse, his family coming to check up on him again. His parents and sisters had not been impressed that he had thrown himself headlong into danger and had been letting him know ever since they had seen him on television.

On the other side of the door was a petite woman with red hair. "Bucky Barnes," she said, in a manner which seemed like a question without actually being one.

"Yep," Bucky offered, leaning against the jamb and giving the woman a hard stare. She stared back at him, entirely unperturbed.

"May I come in?" she asked. "I have something important to discuss with you."

"I don't know you," Bucky said, raising an eyebrow at the woman. She pursed her lips slightly, which did nothing to mar her extremely attractive face.

"Natasha," she said, sticking out a hand and giving him one of the firmest handshakes he had ever been the recipient of. "Like I said, it's important, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

Bucky surveyed Natasha for a moment. Part of him wanted to shut the door in her face, but something was stopping him. He sighed, rubbing his head, then shrugged. What harm would it do to hear her out?

"Okay, but I'm having a beer," he told her, swinging the door wide and beckoning her inside. He heard the door shut behind them and Natasha following him into the apartment. He went to the kitchen and grabbed two bottles before joining her on the couch.

"Now, what can I do for you?" he asked, holding out the second bottle to her, which she declined. He put it on the coffee table for safekeeping.

"SHIELD sent me," Natasha said, simply.

Beer suds shot into Bucky's nose. He spluttered, trying not to choke on the mouthful of liquid he had been trying to drink when she'd spoken.

"SHIELD? As in … SHIELD? The national intelligence agency?"

"That's the one," she said, smirking slightly. "They're very interested in you and what you can offer."

"What I can offer?" Bucky asked, putting his beer down so he didn't choke again.

"You've got a somewhat unique set of skills," Natasha pointed out. "SHIELD could use someone like you for," she paused momentarily, "special projects."

Bucky stared. "You're joking," he finally managed. "SHIELD want me to be some sort of special agent?"

"In a nutshell," Natasha confirmed.

"Have they noticed I'm missing an arm?"

"It didn't stop you during the Chitauri attack," Natasha countered. She tilted her head slightly, analysing him.

Bucky leaned back in his seat, taking everything in. On the one hand it was ridiculous; he couldn't really be a SHIELD agent. There were so many reasons why he was the wrong candidate for that particular line of work, not the least of all his disability and PTSD.

But on the other … plenty of his comrades had gone into agency work after the service. It was a logical step for a lot of veterans to work for another highly organised government agency.

"SHIELD, huh?" he said, glancing at Natasha again. "What if I say no?"

"Then I leave and you won't be bothered about this again."

"And if I was interested?"

Natasha smiled a cat-like smile. "Then we see what you're made of, Bucky Barnes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for all the comments and kudos! :)


End file.
